


While Color Lights Up Your Face

by Suzume



Category: Final Fantasy VI
Genre: Community: 31_days, Dancing, Family, Flirting, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Party, Post-Game(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-16
Updated: 2011-11-16
Packaged: 2017-10-26 18:35:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/286579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suzume/pseuds/Suzume
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What better way to celebrate everything we've done before thus far?  Let's dance!</p>
            </blockquote>





	While Color Lights Up Your Face

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Nov. 16, 2011 theme "rhythmic bodies" at 31_days on livejournal

Duane and Katarin's daughter was barely old enough to take a step or two without falling down, but even she seemed to get the general idea of the celebration at hand, swaying back and forth in time with the music as she stood, gripping one of her parents' hands in each of her own. From time to time she began to babble along when the band struck up a song that was accompanied by a singer or two, but only Terra and her young parents could understand what she said.

That didn't stop Edgar from appreciating her efforts (although Sabin insisted it wouldn't have mattered what Tess did, her general cuteness would have won him over anyway). "What an adorable little girl," he gushed to her parents, who were inevitably pleased that even a king could recognize Tess' charm within moments of formally meeting her.

"Something about that scene makes me long for one or two of my own," he sighed.

"I think you're being melodramatic, big brother." Sabin shook his head.

"I think that's the first time I've ever heard him compliment a girl without any mention of her potential future as his bride," Locke laughed, downing a full glass of Doman wine in one swig.

"The night is young yet!" Sabin countered.

"No one has any confidence in you," Celes patted Edgar on the shoulder, "That's too bad."

"Is..." the king barely hesitated before taking the former general's strong hand from his shoulder to his lips, "...That your vote of confidence, Celes? An invitation?"

She pulled her hand back. "I'll dance if you want to dance, but that's all you're getting out of me, Edgar. It's going to take a lot of convincing for anyone to get me to seriously consider even some solo babysitting."

"Was that comment directed at you?" Sabin whispered to Locke, who discreetly put his hands up in the air. That wasn't a conversation he wanted too have in the middle of their annual "date of the day we finally took down Kefka" celebration (a more eloquent member of their group- maybe Setzer- was going to have to come up with a better name for it soon before Edgar's clear, but awkward designation stuck).

Edgar was beaming back at the pale, pretty woman. "A dance is more I would have ever expected from you back when we fought together."

"I suppose I'm finally reasonably sure that you don't mean any harm," Celes smiled back. It hadn't been a quick process that brought her this far, but she continued to warm to Edgar- to all of them, really. She had been so sure that she would always be an outsider, even when their cause was the same. However, despite her tendency to be more closed off to others than some of her acquaintances, she found she had established some kind of rapport with each and every one of these people. They might not (and might never) feel like her brothers and sisters, but they were definitely her extended family.

"...But if you cop a feel, even by accident, I'm going to take it as something you intended, Edgar."

"Oh," the king answered her with a mock-swoon, "So that's as far as you trust me!"

"I'll be following the same standard as Celes," Locke chimed in.

"Quick! Everybody grope Locke!" Sabin purposely misinterpreted his comment, throwing his treasure hunter friend into a headlock. A flurry of friendly hands reached in to ruffle his hair, tug at his bandanna, and muss up his party clothes.

"Hey!" Locke let out an unexpectedly high-pitched squeal, "Who squeezed my butt?!"

There was plenty of giggling, but no one confessed to the deed. Cyan and Lola trailed off the dance floor, taking a well-needed break. Cyan raised a dark eyebrow, shooting Locke and Sabin a skeptical glance. "Is there something of interest I hath missed?"

"You wouldn't want to know about it," Locke insisted.

"Seriously," Sabin agreed.

"Their faces are redder than ours," Lola turned and pressed an embarrassed little giggle into Cyan's upper arm. Whatever Cyan thought about that, it was obviously slightly more than he could handle processing. With Lola still clinging to him, he passed Sabin and Locke by for the wine on the table, and after pouring a glass for, first, his date, and second, himself, he continued on to chat with Terra and dote on her children. For all his strength of arm and spirit, at heart he was one of the most sentimental of them all.

Lola stayed behind, sipping her drink. "...So, why are the two of you just standing here? I haven't seen either of you on the dance floor at all. Even Cyan, who claims the whole Figaran musical scene is too hip and youthful for his taste, seems to be getting along just fine." She stopped for a moment, then her painted lips quirked up in a teasing smile as she continued, "You know no one would quibble if you danced with another man."

"I won't be the first man here to do it," Locke replied.

"What if I admit I was the one who pinched your butt?" Sabin grinned.

"Oh, you did not!" Locke insisted.

"You wouldn't be the first," Lola cut through their chatter. "Look, Setzer is dipping King Edgar right now."

Both Locke and Sabin's mouths opened slightly at the sight, but they were quick to regain their composure. "Strago's got a lot of energy for a man his age," Celes gasped. Locke held out his arms and she allowed herself to droop, exhausted, into them.

"Is it my turn yet?" he inquired.

"You're going to have to give me a tune."

Sabin, Lola, Celes, and Locke idled alongside the table, watching the next two dances unfold. Strago was giving Edgar and Sabin's beloved matron a run for her money. Umaro didn't seem to completely understand dancing with a partner, but he swung his furry body around with the best of them, while several of Terra's charges jumped up and down beside him in glee. Relm put her sketchbook down beside the bandstand to try and show Gau the basics of the waltz that Edgar had taught her, but it looked like sloppy going.

"How about this one?" Locke looked down onto Celes' face, gazing up and out from her head's resting place against his shoulder.

"Alright," she straightened.

But all attempts at casual entertainment were forestalled as Mog deigned to grace the dance floor with his presence. "Oh!" the room echoed with knowing voices and those who had intended to dance to this particular tune broke apart, opening up a circle for Mog to enter.

"How is a moogle the most respected dancer on this continent?" Ultros muttered from his position just outside the kitchen doors, ready to man the tables in his capacity as a temporary waiter as soon as any plates of appetizers needed refilling, "I have eight legs and I know how to use them!"

"Silence," his enigmatic human comrade chastised him, "Aside from style and rhythm, there's one important thing that moogle possesses, but you lack: class."

Umaro started clapping in tune with the royal band's cheery beat and soon much of the assembly had joined in. Mog tapped his feet, twirled like a top, and threw his entire body into his performance, commanding the attention of the audience like the master he was.

"Huh?" A tapping on her shoulder caused Terra to turn away from Mog's performance. "Oh! I'm so glad you came! I wasn't sure you would make it," she greeted Gogo.

With a gentle bow, the mimic accepted and returned her kindness before stepping out into the circle, encroaching on Mog's solitary accomplishment.

"What? You want to take me on?" Mog asked.

Gogo nodded.

"Bring it, kupo!"

Whatever moves Mog pulled off, Gogo could match, but the art of mimicry alone couldn't put the caped and veiled individual ahead. Just as his opponent was ready to cede, however, Mog grabbed Gogo's hand and pulled the mime to his side, "How about doing this as partners?"

What could Gogo do but cheerfully acquiesce? The new pair's first steps together on the dance floor were a sign to the rest of the party guests to throw themselves back into the action- Locke and Celes, Setzer and Maria, Relm and Strago, Sabin and the castle's matron.

"Hey, Edgar," Terra tried to edge out of the way of the dancers and still make her way toward the king.

"Yes, my dear?" he put on his brightest smile for one of his favorite young women (and he meant that quite sincerely).

"Priscilla's too shy to say so herself, but she wanted me to tell you that you throw the most amazing parties."

Edgar looked past Terra to the other side of the room where he picked pigtailed Priscilla out of a group of small girls petting Umaro's fur. She met his gaze for a brief instant before turning red and looking away. "I'm flattered. You'll pass that on to her for me, won't you?"

"Of course."

"And that this celebration wouldn't be the same unless she continues to grace it?"

Terra let out an indulgent laugh. "Yes, that too."

"But first," he offered the green-haired woman his hand, "May I have this dance?"


End file.
